


Fifty/50

by Mizzy



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Avengers vs X-men, Bad Ending, Canon Related, Denial, Experimental Style, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Pretentious, Sexual Content, Turn Left, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adjusting to life after the great Avengers vs. X-Men debacle is hard enough, but since when have the Avengers ever caught a break, anyway? When some rich dudes pool their funds to build the creepy and possibly unstoppable Angels of the Apocalypse, Tony has an idea to fight them off, but it involves exploring something he forgot during his SHRA days.<br/>The other Avengers look to Steve to solve any SHRA-related discussion, but this decision is tough. It's basically fifty/fifty. Steve might as well toss a coin, but saying yes or no to one decision couldn't be <i>that</i> world-changing? Could it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifty/50

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not the fic I set out to write. 
> 
> That one was heading towards being a sprawl of text in the hundreds of thousands of words and unlike last year I just didn't have the time or the safe space to write it in (alas.) So instead I bundled up my feelings and let out my internal dork and had fun playing with structure and venturing my toes into 616. There's still ghosts of the original story.
> 
> Thanks to immoral-crow and theron09; I lost my mind for a while and they showed me the path home. ♥
> 
> The art (link will be here asap!!) is by the forever brilliant LP. Apparently we ended up inspiring each other in a weird Steve-at-a-gravestone related cycle, which is a nice tribute to non-linearity in itself. :)

The briefing at the Mansion is probably less awkward than Steve imagined it might be.  
  
It's the first time he's seen Sharon since—well. yes. And there have been a lot of new developments in the interim.  
  
Developments he's not entirely sure he's ready to talk to her about.  
  
The first being the robotic Angels of the Apocalypse terrorising the world. Some Americans from the lower states apparently pooled their funds and decided that creating robots to terrorize and obliterate superheroes would be a good idea – something about how a world without superheroes would make a world without supervillains. Steve's kind of expecting a supervillain boost by the mass murder of superheroes, actually.  
  
Then there's the fact that, for the first time in a while, the New York Avengers are split by location – some staying in the Mansion, some staying in the Tower to show support to Wanda in the aftermath of her saving the world with Hope.  
  
It's a nice, tangible apology. Even Clint moved back into the Tower.  
  
Nothing says _I forgive you for causing my death once_ than cohabiting with someone.  
  
And yeah. Cohabiting. That's the other thing Steve's sort of doing.  
  
Maybe.  
  
_Kind of._  
  
He watches Tony covertly over the top of his notes. Tony's preparing to take the stand, after Sam's finished outlining the difference between the five Angels of the Apocalypse and the red robots which make up the Heavenly Chorus.  
  
It's an easy distinction: they know how to defeat the red robots.  
  
They don't yet know how to defeat the white ones.  
  
Sharon's sitting on the opposite side of the table. Steve feels like his skin is itching, and he wriggles guiltily before the meeting stops, until even Spider-Man tells him to can it.  
  
It would be easier if they knew where the Angels' base even was, but they don't. And as Tony takes the podium, winking lewdly in Steve's direction even though he's told him to tone down the PDA. Steve realizes that's what Tony's plan is.  
  
Not to tone down the PDA, alas. But to find out where the base is that the Angels are being stored/made/repaired/whatever it is that's actually going on.  
  
And, oh, Steve's cheeks are coloring because of the wink, and over the table, he catches Sharon's surprised, amused smirk. _Damn._ Of course it would be the woman who was at his side for years that would pick up on his new... attachment to Tony.  
  
"It makes no sense to me that I don't have any military satellites in the pipeline," Tony says, and Steve's stomach sinks as he turns his gaze back on Tony. He scratches at the stubble burn hidden by the tight spandex of his uniform. For once he's glad how high the neck is on this thing.  
  
For a _friends-with-benefits_ arrangement, Tony sure spends an awful lot of time kissing him.  
  
"Last night I was idly plotting the schematics of one when it occurred to me  _how_ little sense it actually does make," Tony says, and clicks the slideshow on to show a range of everything his company makes.  
  
There's no kind of satellites at all on the list. There are satellite-seeking weapons. Now Steve stares at it, the absence of satellites suddenly becomes gapingly obvious.  
  
"It's like someone not noticing the Statue of _Liberty_ is missing, once you see it," Tony says.  
  
"God _dammit_ , Stark," Sam hisses from Steve's side. "That was _one time._ And I got it back before too many people noticed."  
  
Tony grins in Sam's direction, but his eyes are on Steve. Oh, man. This friends-with-benefits thing is _getting out of hand_ and Steve needs to stop it. Soon.  
  
_Maybe tomorrow_ , Steve thinks, because Tony had mentioned something about the desk in his lab, and. well. that would be a shame to miss out on.  
  
"So I thought about it," Tony says, "and it hit me. I _must_ have thought of them before. And _when_ might I have thought about it?" He drums the podium dramatically, and Steve's stomach sinks.  
  
" _Tony, no,_ " Natasha mouths at him from across the table, but he just grins wider.  
  
"I'm going to save everyone the melodramatic pause," Sharon calls out. "During that time during the Superhero Registration hoo-hah when Mr. _Arrogantony_ Stark didn't back-up his memories before being a total pain in the—"  
  
"—so we're going with _too long didn't read_ ; when would I have had better opportunity to have installed them than…" Tony eyeballs Sharon warily. "Than the events of a few years ago? With your permission, I want to ask SHIELD for the records of my brief stint as Director."  
  
Steve's fingers tremble despite themselves as everyone turns to him.  
  
There are definitely some downsides to everyone automatically treating him like he's the _de facto_ leader of all of them. This is a democracy.  
  
But even democracies need someone to break a tie-break, and this is what this decision is: a tie-break.  
  
All their post-SHRA SHRA discussions have ended up in deadlock, along with more hurt feelings and more door slamming than in a boarding school of teenagers (yeah, Steve regrets that visit Logan took him on to the new version of the mutant academy, because a bunch of teenagers? With all-new powers? Steve would rather another stint in Hel.)  
  
Tony looks at him, and there are two answers to this.  
  
Just like the Avengers are split 50/50, so is Steve.  
  
He swallows hard, and opens his mouth.  
  


"No," Steve says. | "Yes," Steve says.  
---|---  
" _Steve_ ," is Tony's first utterance, and he sounds so _betrayed_ that Steve's fingers tremble again, and he wonders if he made the wrong decision, and his jaw clenches involuntarily. |  " _Huh_ ," is Tony's first utterance, and he sounds so _surprised_ that Steve's fingers tremble again, and he wonders if he made the wrong decision, and his jaw clenches involuntarily.  
"Permission denied," he clarifies.. | "Permission granted," he clarifies.  
"But—" Tony's eyes turn to him, wide and shocked, with an inch of betrayal in there too. "Cap, it's—" | "Great," Tony says, and turns to the rest, his genuine surprise relaxing some of them. "It's top of my to-do list."  
"You have too many missing memories, Tony. Who knows what failsafes you installed into anything you made during that time? You wouldn't remember." | "Make sure you keep aware that you're... _you_ ," Steve says, eloquently. "Who knows what failsafes you might have programmed into anything you might find that you don't remember making."  
Tony stares at him, hollow-eyed with betrayal. He reminds Steve almost of the Angels themselves; the white robots have dead eyes, black holes where eyes might be. | Tony nods, slowly, and ducks his head a little. His expression is warm and steady, the complete opposite of the terrible Angels themselves, and their strange, dead eyes.  
"With the current situation," Steve says, "I can only assume we're on a time crunch. We have a lot to deal with without worrying about you blowing yourself up." | "I'll try not to get myself blown up," Tony promises. "We're on a time crunch. Cleaning up bits of my body would be irritatingly time consuming."  
Tony doesn't need to be a robot for it to be obvious when he's on a shut down. He sinks down into a chair and childishly flips down his mask. Some of the other Avengers look around cagily, and Steve throws himself aggressively back into chairing the briefing, trying not to glare at Tony's mask. | Tony doesn't even need to be looking in Steve's direction to know what glare is currently being sent his way. He sinks down into his chair before Steve can verbally reprimand him; Steve's known for being irritated by any of the Avengers being blasé about their own personal safety.  
"Any other suggestions?" | "Any other suggestions?"  
Thankfully for the meeting's sake, Tigra has some thoughts about punching the robots in the face repeatedly, and the others jump on that, and it takes a lot of back-and-forth to plan out some smaller attacks and constant patrols. The Angels have to have a base somewhere. Find that, and there may be no further problem. | Even post-residual SHRA-discussion-related awkwardness doesn't stop Tigra's unquenchable thirst for suggesting violence on bad guys; a veritable torrent of back-and-forth discussion breaks out as the plan smaller attacks and patrols to find the Angels' base. It has to exist somewhere. Find that, and Tony's probable-military-satellites won't be needed.  
At the end of the briefing, Steve tries to call out to Tony, but he sweeps out of the room with Natasha, head bowed down, and Steve sinks down to his chair and tries not to sigh too loudly. | At the end of the briefing, Steve tries to call out to Tony, to awkwardly make sure Tony knows it was a 50/50 decision, not a "you've been in my pants" decision. Tony's too busy chatting to Hank, of course.  
"Tony Stark, huh?" Sharon says, taking the seat next to him. She crosses her legs and watches him. Steve doesn't look up. He knows exactly which of her smirks will be frozen on her face. | "Tony Stark, huh?" Sharon prompts. Steve jumps, and turns around; he hadn't noticed how close she'd moved. She sits down, crosses her legs and watches him coolly with a smirk he knows all too well.  
"He's a peach," Steve says, tersely, avoiding the topic. He's kind of a coward sometimes. Well, when it comes to his feelings, anyway. | "My decision wasn't because--" Steve starts, but Sharon's smirk widens, and he sighs and takes a seat nearby her. "It _wasn't_ ," he insists.  
It's not like Sharon's unaware of that fact. | It's not like Sharon's unaware that he finds it hard to talk about his feelings.  
"I meant the fact that you're sleeping with him," Sharon says. | "Relax, soldier. I know how difficult it is to influence your decision making, even when copious sex is involved," Sharon says.  
Steve pulls a face. "It's just sex." | Steve pulls a face.  
Sharon looks at him disbelievingly. Steve edges a glance at her, and looks away sharply. | Sharon laughs. "Oh, man, your face." She sobers. "It's nice to see you out there, dating again."  
"It doesn't matter anyway," Steve says, because her disbelieving look has made his stomach jumble, and he doesn't want to think about his new _thing_ with Tony being anything to do with something as irritating as  _feelings_. "You think he's going to want to continue after I shot him down in front of everyone?" |  Steve looks at her sharply in surprise. Her earnest expression makes something twinge in his chest, and her casual assumption that he's dating Tony is weird to hear out loud. "I'm not," Steve starts, eloquently. "He's not-- I mean, it's just casual."  
Sharon just laughs and reaches forward to pinch his cheek, and Steve edges back, eyes narrowed. "I always thought you and he could be a good thing, if both of you managed to get your head out of your asses and maybe consider putting something else there instead." | Sharon's sceptical expression has never changed. "I'm just going to assume you've been hit on the head really hard. You and _Tony Stark_? In a casual relationship?" She shakes her head. "Not in a million years, honey. You and he were gone over each other before there even _were_ Avengers."  
That might even be a blush on Steve's face right now.  _God._ Sharon's always good _and_ bad for him. "We haven't—" Steve starts, which just makes Sharon laugh harder. "It's just, it's _weird,_ y'know? _Me._ Playing the _friends with benefits_ game." |  "It's not like that," Steve insists. "It's good for us. I was sceptical at first too, given our..." He gestures awkwardly. "History." He folds his hands on the table so he can stop weirdly waving them. "And it's weird, but it works for us. So."  
Sharon's smile turns sad, elegiac."Kinda didn't peg you as the casual kind." | Sharon squints at him. "I'm still not seeing it. If he's sold you on it, he probably had to sell himself on it too."  
"I thought you _did_ peg me that one time, in Brussells—" |  "No one's selling anything."  
"If the others knew how kinky you were, Rogers…" Sharon shakes her head, but it's with a kind ruefulness. "Does Tony know?" | "Except maybe your observational skills," Sharon says, shaking her head ruefully. "All right, if you think you're just _friends_ , who am I to say you aren't?"  
"Not yet," Steve says, and then has to sit there, stunned. _Not yet_ implies he's already thinking of a future. He pauses, and scratches the back of his head. "You always do this to me, Sharon. Get in my head, turn my mind upside down." |  "You make it sound like--" Steve starts, and then has to sit there, uncomfortable. "It's not. It can't--" He scratches the back of his head. "You always do this to me, Sharon. Get in my head, turn my mind upside down."  
"I might always get into your head," Sharon says, her smile soft and almost regretful. "But not your heart. You know that difference now, I think, even if you didn't before." | "I might always get into your head," Sharon says, smiling at him, soft and bittersweet. "But not your heart. You know that difference now, I think, even if you didn't before."  
"I'm starting to learn the difference," Steve acquiesces, because he's a work-in-progress. He looks at her and tries to smile. He loves her, even though it's complicated, and the love and pain for her will always be entwined within him now. It just… hurts less now. | "I'm starting to learn the difference," Steve acquiesces, because he's a work-in-progress. He looks at her and tries to smile. He loves her, even though it's complicated, and the love and pain for her will always be entwined within him now. It just… hurts less now.  
Maybe even more time will make the ache go away completely. | Maybe even more time will make the ache go away completely.  
Sharon smiles back, and it looks just as painful as his soft smile feels. | Sharon smiles back, and it looks just as painful as his soft smile feels.  
Sharon shoves him none-too-gently with both knees. "I _know_. So c'mon. Let's go defeat some bad guys together, huh?" |  Sharon shoves him none-too-gently with both knees. "I  _know_. But think about what I said while we go defeat some bad guys, huh?"   
"I do like defeating bad guys." | "I do like the bad guys part of that suggestion."  
Sharon's smiles around him will probably always be equally amusement and regret. "I remember." She gets to her feet, as graceful as ever. She'll always be beautiful in the way she moves. "One thing, though." | She's still smiling, but it's that mix of amusement and regret that she'll probably always wear around him. "I bet," she says, gracefully getting to her feet, forever beautiful in her movements. "Promise me something, though?"  
"Ugh, I hate it when you start sentences like that. It means I'm about to get a mental smackdown. I'm  _emotionally vulnerable_ right now, Sharon." |  "A promise? You know how I am with promises. They're not necessary. I'm a man of my word."  
"You're regularly getting _laid_ , Steve. I think you can cope." | "This one you might try and wiggle out of, and you've been around Tony Stark long enough to pick up too much of his emphasis on semantics."  
Steve makes a sad little sound which makes Sharon grin wide. She puts her hand on his shoulder, an anchor to the uncertainty he's feeling. | Steve makes a disgruntled little sound which means she's on the money. She puts her hand on his shoulder, an anchor to the uncertainty he's feeling.  
"I'll take that whimper as a yes," Sharon says. "You really think you're just, what. Friends with bennies? With _Tony Stark_?" |  "I'll take that whimper as a yes," Sharon says. "I want you to consider something. Whether you ever really could be just friends with Tony Stark."  
"I—" Steve starts, and sags. This morning, Tony's stubble burn on his shoulder, a pleasant burn in his thighs from Tony's remarkably- _insane_ refractory period, he would have said _yes_. "Maybe," he finishes, but even he can hear how thin his voice is. |  "I—" Steve starts, and sags. He thinks about Tony's stubble burn on his shoulder, and the pleasant burn in his thighs, and how relaxed he was. That's what this was supposed to be. Something physical, to let go of the tension. "I don't know."  
"Go find him," Sharon says, her voice soft, her hand firm on his shoulder. "He'll forgive you for saying no." | "Just think about it," Sharon says, her voice soft, her hand firm on his shoulder. "I know you, Steve. Almost as well as Tony Stark does."  
"Maybe," Steve grunts again. | "Maybe," Steve grunts.  
Tony's actually leaning against the wall when he leaves the briefing room. He looks tired, like the meeting's aged him, but his eyes do brighten when he notices Sharon going one way, and Steve not following her. | Tony's actually leaning against the wall when he leaves the briefing room. He looks bright, like he's thrumming with excitement, but his eyes darken when he notices Sharon going one way, and Steve not following her.  
"I—" Steve starts. | "I—" Steve starts.  
Tony looks at him, an unsure expression on his face. "You had to make a choice. I always know when my plans are just as dangerous as they are beneficial." | Tony has an unsure expression on his face. "I thought I'd talk to you before—" He looks in the direction Sharon left. "I'm sorry I made you doubt your decision."  
Steve steps in closer, his hand curving around Tony's hip slowly; he's unsure the touch will be welcome. Tony doesn't retreat. "It was kind of 50/50," he offers. | "You didn't. That wasn't what she—" Steve falters, because Tony doesn't look convinced. "It was a hard call, but... you'll be careful."  
"Don't tell me Captain Perfect tossed a coin in his head?" Tony drawls, color starting to crawl back into his face. | "That half sounds like a question," Tony says. He looks vaguely sceptical.  
Steve winces. | Steve frowns. "Did you _want_ me to say no?"   
"Oh, my god," Tony breathes, "maybe you're not so perfect after all." | Tony looks at him then. "I half-thought you were going to."  
Steve looks at him through lowered eyelashes, coyly. "I think you knew that already." | "I half-thought so too," Steve says, and Tony's eyebrows furrow thoughtfully.  
"Yeah," Tony agrees. His smile is small, and brilliant, but there's a reservation in there regardless; Tony expected Steve to back him up. | "I didn't want this... thing we're doing to make you doubt yourself," Tony says, and he draws his chin up. "That's not what it's about."  
"I am—I didn't just disregard you because we're—" Steve makes an awkward gesture. "It's just all really difficult. We have rotating patrols across America. If their base is near, we'll find it." | "It's a mutual relief of tension," Steve says. "I've got that. I honestly paused before deciding because... it's a 50/50 thing; there's equal amounts of benefit and risk in tinkering with anything from... then."  
"I'm surprised you're not out on one of those patrols yourself," Tony says. "And me. When am I—" | " _Then_ ," Tony says, exhaling roughly. "I'll be careful. You can count on that."  
Steve's face twists. | Steve's face twists.  
"Let me guess. Nine o' clock shift." | There's way too much tension in this moment.  
Steve's face twists back from the grimace into a hopeful, forced smile. | He's been free from this weird winding tension for weeks; now it's back it feels like a terrible burden.  
"Ugh," Tony says, eloquently, rubbing a hand over his face and darting a look up to the clock. "It's not even worth going to bed." | "My decision wasn't influenced at all by our current situation," Steve says, firmly, staring at Tony, willing him to believe him.  
"I have an alternate perspective on that," Steve says, cautiously. | Tony just sags against the wall, looking tired, like time's finally catching up to him.  
Tony's mouth widens into a leer. "I bet you do." | "I believe you," Tony says. It doesn't sound hopeful.  
There's warmth in the space between them, and that's enough for a long moment. Steve draws it in, and listens to Tony's heartbeat, soft and subtle in the clean air of Avengers Tower, the pulse of it cool and steady beneath his fingertips. "My room or yours?" | Steve stares at him, helplessly. There's not much space between them, but it's uncomfortable. He thinks about what Sharon said, the doubt over it, the hazy wash in his brain. "But it might be in the future," Steve says, hesitantly.  
Tony's leer splits into a genuine smile, and his fingers entangle with Steve's.  
Steve clutches back automatically, leaning into the heat. | Tony's face lowers, and his eyebrows draw together. "Maybe our past only proves we can't handle the future," he says, finally, and walks off before Steve can follow him.  
# | #  
The upside to the nine o' clock patrol shift is that Tony's squad finds one of the Angels – Pestilence – trying to spray some gunk over New York City; Steve's squad is close enough to come and provide support, and as a conclusion, they have one of the weird robots to study. | Steve's on the nine o' clock patrol shift, and it's good that his mind works on auto-pilot, because it turns out he can sulk over this new fight with Tony while being productive; his squad works with the city one to bring down one of the Angels, Pestilence. They finally have one to study, and that's got to be a good thing.  
The downside is that they have to strip their uniforms off as soon as they enter the Tower, and spend an hour in the decontamination room, naked and getting hosed down from the automatic decontamination sprays. It's wearying for Steve, and he has super-serum advantages; it's as natural a gesture as anything when he stumbles out of the other side, wearing a new white tank top and grey sweatpants, to grab onto Tony as he comes out of his booth, scowling and swearing. | On the downside, he _is_ distracted, and that probably accounts for some of the terrible amounts of gunk that the two squads end up covered with that Pestilence intended for the residents of NYC. Both squads have to spend an hour in the decontamination sprays, and it's _exhausting_. Even for someone with super-serum advantages. Steve stands under the automatic decontamination sprays, and tries not to let his thoughts go in the dizzying spirals his brain wants to wallow in.  
None of the Avengers like the decontamination booths, and that's putting it mildly. | He's slow to come out, because none of the Avengers like going through decontamination.  
"Shoulda made sure Wanda was on my squad," Clint mutters, stumbling out of his own booth and sinking against the wall. Natasha sashays past him, immaculate and looking as fresh as a daisy, which just deepens all their scowls more. It's nice hearing Clint say that sentence so easily. Steve hopes Wanda overhears it, because it's taken a long few years for Clint to come to that easy re-acceptance of the woman who caused his death a while back, and caused so much mayhem and destruction with her breakdown. "Bet she could have just wished that magical gunk into oblivion." | "Man, Steve, why did you choose Tony to work on something technical?" Clint whines as he stumbles out of his own booth and sinks against the wall. He scowls as Natasha emerges from her booth looking like she's just stepped out from a day spa. "We really could have used his repulsor blasts in that fight. It would have burned off some of that horrible gunky stuff for sure."  
Steve sighs. Tony hated decontamination too, so he would have added to the whining, but it would have been nice to have him here, too. To lean against him and take some of the burden.  
"Perhaps," Steve grunts, and bangs on Sam's door. "Sam, hour's up." | "Perhaps," Steve allows, and bangs on Sam's door because he shouldn't suffer alone.  
"I'm okay sleeping on the floor here," Sam mumbles. | "Leave me in here to die," Sam mumbles.  
"I'll get him," Natasha offers, before Steve can open the door; she emerges seconds later with a half-dressed Sam still clutching his tank top. | "I'll get him," Natasha offers, before Steve can open the door; she emerges seconds later with a half-dressed Sam still standing in his underwear.  
"She was going to _fireman lift me_ ," Sam whines. | "She ripped my pants," Sam whines.  
"Still will if you don't get your ass to the cafeteria," Natasha says. "I want coffee and I'm not drinking alone. The catering guy Tony hired is an asshole." | Natasha throws the material to one side. "I'm still in a mood," she says. "Hell of a fight. Clint was right about the repulsor blasts."  
"He's an asshole who can make damn good coffee," Tony mutters from Steve's side. | "Tony's busy," Steve says, "hopefully saving the day by finding something able to blow the Angels up."  
"And damn good cake," Clint adds. "Wait for me!" He side-glances Steve and Tony as he passes them. "Mom and Dad coming to hang out with the kids?" | "At least we can go get some of the coffee now that his asshole caterer makes," Clint grunts. "And some of his assholishly good cake."  
Tony, solemn-faced, offers him the bird. | "You coming with?" Natasha says.  
"I don't know about _Mom_ ," Steve says, "but I need to sleep for a week." | Sam looks up hopefully as he pulls a spare pair of pants from one of the wall lockers.  
"I'm not the Mom," Tony says, instantly, but it's still too late – Clint's caught up to Sam and Natasha, his arms around both of them. "Ugh, whatever." He turns to Steve, speculatively. "I'm not all that tired, actually. What about you?" | "I should really go see how Tony's doing with the SHIELD files," Steve says. "I'd be shocked if he doesn't have military-standard satellites already in orbit, and that Angel was hell to take down. We could do with some extra tech on our side."  
Steve thinks about it for a few seconds. | He does pause though. Coffee sounds tempting.  
Apparently the pause is telling because barely a minute passes before he's shoved up against the inside of his bedroom door, Tony's mouth at the junction of his neck and shoulder, his hand inside the elasticized waist of Steve's sweatpants. | Sam and Clint stagger off to the cafeteria, but Natasha hangs back, looking at him much too speculatively. "You look tired, Steve," she says. "You've been doing better recently. Getting less obsessed with the bad guys. Sleeping."  
"We really should be getting our reports in," Steve says, head smacking into the door as it falls backwards of its own accord, stars sparking behind his eyeballs. | Steve scowls at the implicit criticism in her words, and she just tilts her head, like he's proving her point for him. She's probably not going to believe his instinctive impulse for denial.   
"Yup," Tony says into Steve's skin, hissing in success as both of their erections hit the cool temperature-regulated air; his hands fist around them, and he strokes ruthlessly, efficiently. Steve can still taste the bitter tang of the decontamination spray in the back of his throat, can still feel the blasts of the Angel of Pestilence sore across his shoulders. Every fight they come close to losing, to _dying_ , and this fight was closer than most. "That thing took five of us to take down. It's no wonder we were useless when there were two of them." | Ugh, why is he surrounded by so many ridiculously clever people? It's not good for Steve's sanity. He stretches a little, trying to delay the inevitability of spilling his guts to her. He can still taste the decontamination spray in his mouth, and the burn from fighting the Angel of Pestilence for hours. They came close to dying in this fight, and Steve's tension doubles just at that thought alone. "Kind of had a thing with Tony," Steve mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but directly at her. "A friends with benefits... thing."  
"Sam's tactical strike from above was very effective," Steve manages, as Tony's teeth latches into the skin of his shoulder; Steve's knees nearly buckle, and he tenses his hips to keep them in place. "We need to replicate that again." | " _Really_ ," Natasha says, drawing out the word, enjoying it just a little bit too much. She moves to stand next to him, leaning against the wall. "I presume the _had_ is the reason why you're looking like your actual age for once."  
Tony grins into his skin, and bites an inch further down too. It's not what Steve was aiming for, but damn, it seems to be working. Steve lurches in Tony's relentless grip. "It seems to be built to rend flesh. I'd estimate from the way it crushed Sam's left wing it could tear a limb right out of the socket." | "I don't know if we _are_ a _were_ ," Steve says, frowning, because that sentence doesn't make a whole lot of sense, really. "He got cranky after the briefing. I guess we had a fight or something, but it wasn't like our usual fights where we say what we mean to each other's face."  
"Noted," Steve says. "So we need to hold back. Those of us who flight hand-to-hand focus on the Heavenly Chorus, and the long-distance focus on one Angel at a time. Run interference on the others if needs be." | "Did _you_ say what you meant to his face?" Natasha asks. "Just trying to get a feel for this situation, but... Tony basically gives what he gets. And if he's getting nothing but denial..."  
"I think we can defeat these freaks," Tony says, and comes messily all over him. "Don't sweat the small stuff, Cap." | Steve looks at her sharply. "What do you mean by that? I'm not in denial." Well, that's probably a denial. He glares at Natasha anyway.  
"Believe me," Steve says, following him over the edge, a wicked smirk curving onto his face. "I'm not." | Natasha's not buying it. "Friends with _benefits_ , Steve? How did he even sell you on that one?"  
As they're catching their breaths, there's a burst of AC/DC from somewhere; Tony curses under his breath and goes hunting for his communicator. When he picks it up, his brow furrows. "It's the morning squad," Tony says. "Carol's down." | Steve stutters through an explanation of ancient Greek warriors bonding sexually to erase tension and increase bonds. Natasha just looks endlessly amused, and...yeah. Maybe he _didn't_ need a lot of persuading if all it took was Tony's history bullshitting.  
Steve's post-orgasmic euphoria dissipates instantly, and he drops for his pants regardless of the mess he's going to make of them. "Is she okay?" | "You've got some thinking to do, yeah?" Natasha says, patting him slowly on the arm. "Thinking's good to do over coffee and cake."  
"Fine," Tony says, instantly, nodding at Steve in the near-dark. "It just leaves them with just one flyer on the squad, and as we've just seen—" | Steve smiles at her sly expression. "I can think and work on my report of today's fight at the same time," he tells her. "Sam's flying was really fundamental t—"  
"They could really do with you," Steve finishes, and sighs. | Their communicators beep in unison and they both freeze at the sound.  
"Go to bed," Tony says. "It's fine. I'll be right back." He darts in and kisses Steve, his lips catching on Steve's like a promise. "Sleep. I'll be right back," Tony says, sliding his pants back on, and sauntering out of Steve's quarters, blowing him a kiss. | Natasha finds hers first, and listens in. "Morning squad," she says, low and worried. "Carol's down. Two of the Angels are on their location." She looks over at Steve. "They could do with a flyer. Who do we have close enough?"  
Steve watches his hips for a few seconds before closing the door, and he slumps against the wall, exhausted. | Steve uses a wall panel to look up the information - where the squad is and who's free. "It's too close. Sam," Steve says. "Or Tony."  
Sharon implied this _arrangement_ between Tony and him was more than just… a mutually beneficial understanding. It's extraordinarily helpful; Steve hasn't been this clear-headed in _years_. Without the tension winding around his body, his decisions are easier, his brain faster. |  Natasha frowns. "Sam was hit worse than he's letting on. I'll go get Tony to suit up." She nods at Steve, overriding his instant protest. "I suggest you go to the lab. One Angel was nearly too much for two squads. We need to know how to stop them, and Pestilence is our best shot. If you can figure it out..."  
He touches his mouth, and sighs. He doesn't have to put another label on this deal with Tony right now. There's no rush. | Steve nods, trusting her. It's the right decision. Besides, she's seeing things more clearly than he is at the moment.  
He has plenty of time. | Yeah, he really does need to take some time and look at what he's feeling about Tony Stark.  
# | #  
The Angel of Pestilence looks out through the impenetrable glass with its never-changing expression. The surgeons can't even cut through its exoskeleton, even with all of SHIELD's adamantium and spare vibranium at their disposal. | Steve stares at the Angel of Pestilence as it stares back through its impenetrable glass cage. It's tied down flat to a table, electricity keeping it as immobilised as possible, and the surgeons are trying and failing to cut through its exoskeleton.  
"Bow down to me," the Angel calls through the walls of its cage. Its blank, deep, cavernous eyes seem to move towards where Steve's leaning against one of the panels, watching the readouts. "Bow down and worship the Angels and we'll lead you to your salvation." | "Bow down to me," the Angel says. It's said it several times over the last ten hours that Steve has been down here. "Bow down and worship the Angels and we'll lead you to your salvation." Tony and Natasha are out fighting, and Steve's here, finding out basically zero about the Angels. Ugh.   
"Cannot believe I stayed back for this," Steve mutters, running his hands over his face wearily. Tony had to leave earlier than he did, and Steve had lain in Tony's bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, and trying to burrow into the heat Tony had left behind, remembering the indents Tony's fingers made in his shoulders. | Steve probably shouldn't be in here; it's not like he was the one to discover electricity could subdue the Angel temporarily. Natasha was grateful for that discovery, especially when Thor joined her on patrol. But even Thor's hammer can only subdue the Angels for a little while... This threat is the worst they've had for a long time.  
"I hear ya," Sam says, spinning in his chair before peering back at the logs of the Angel's speech records. | Sam's helping examine the Angel, because he's tired but wants to be doing something to help. He's more helpful than Steve. "We'll get through to it," Sam says.  
Steve sighs, and slides down into the nearest chair, unconsciously touching his mouth with his fingers. Tony kissed him before leaving, lingering and hopeful, and Steve kissed back automatically. It felt like coming home. | "Hope so," Steve says, grunting. He hasn't slept in a couple of days, and the tension in his body is at ridiculous levels. He wishes Tony was there, and not just for the thing they'd been doing recently. It's not Tony's body he needs right now.  
Maybe he's getting too involved. He doesn't want to lose Tony. Steve _never_ wants to lose Tony. And if he gets too attached to Tony during their… liaisons… then it could go messy and weird. |  No, it's Tony himself Steve needs. This worry is ridiculous. Tony's capable and he's out there fighting with Natasha and he's _fine_ and Steve shouldn't _want_ to be fighting with him right now so badly.  
Steve looks back up at the Angel, who seems to be staring directly at him. | Steve stares at the Angel. Maybe he's staring through the Angel. Whatever.  
"Repent your sins," the Angel hisses. "Denounce the evil inside of you. Repent, and evade damnation and hellfire, heathen." | "I'm going to go join the battle," Steve says. "You going to be all right here with the ranting robot of doom?"  
Sam hums under his breath, and Steve looks over so fast it feels like whiplash. | "Almost surprised you waited this long," Sam says. "I'll hold down the fort. Let you know if we get something useful."  
"What am I missing?" Natasha asks, reading their reactions in the way she's amazing at. | "Great," Steve says, and hurries out of the room. The sooner he gets to the battle, the better.  
"New dialogue pattern," Sam says. "It's not said these things before." | Steve's communicator beeps just as he's picked up his shield ready to head out.  
"I can see it in you," the Angel of Pestilence shouts. "We can all see it in you, Steve Rogers. The potential to save the universe… or destroy it, on the flip of a coin." | "Its dialogue patterns changed," Sam says, "and it's started to get agitated." He holds up his communicator to the cage, where the robot's wriggling in its restraints wildly. "As soon as you left."  
"It's said that before, though," Steve says, straightening. "It's going around in loops. I don't think we're going to learn anything new. Might be best if I put myself somewhere more useful in the roster than here, listening to a robot ranting—" | "Should I head back?" Steve moves to lower the shield, and Sam shakes his head over the small screen.  
"Negative," Sam says. "It's just a theory, but... Every time you were going to leave earlier..."  
"Death to the unbelievers," the Angel howls. "Righteous fury will rain down on high! My last will undo you!" | "It said something new," Steve says, his stomach sinking. "And of course the battle with the two Angels would be my destination..."  
"And it's new again," Steve sighs, sinking back down again. "Every time I think I'm going to leave, it just—" | "Keep going," Sam says, firmly. "I'll keep you updated with what it's doing."  
He freezes. | He pauses, for a moment.  
"What?" Sam asks, his gaze flickering between Steve and the Angel. | "What?" Steve says, already moving for the roof and the one-man pilot planes Tony designed last year.  
"It keeps me here," Steve says, his voice low. He turns to Natasha urgently. | "Maybe your vibranium in your shield is the key to hurting them," Sam says.  
"We came from the North to make you _fear_ ," the Angel howls, and all of its words are new, but Steve's stomach clenches uneasily with the realization they've been played. | "Do I have time to come back and try out that theory?" Steve says, picking up one of the wall panels and checking for the recent battle status report. The three squads on site are struggling but surviving.  
"Where would I be assigned if I wasn't here," Steve asks, picking up his shield. The Angel starts screaming even more loudly. | "We've still got this one locked down by the electricity," Sam says. "Go. My scans so far indicate maybe there's a vulnerability in the neck."  
"With Tony," Natasha says, her eyes widening in fear. "There was an energy spike on Staten Island, so he's taken some of the Avengers on patrol there." | "Got it," Steve says, and picks up his pace. He checks his panel. There's been an energy spike on Staten Island, and that's where Tony and some of the other Avengers have segmented off to.  
They run immediately. | Steve guns the engine in the plane as fast as he can.  
It's not fast enough. | He hopes he's fast enough to help.  
# | #  
Even with all the Avengers' technology at their disposal, and with Steve and Natasha fighting at their _best_ to get through the Heavenly Chorus littering the way, it's still not fast enough. |  Steve uses the onboard missiles to cut a swathe through the ranks of red robotic Heavenly Chorus, because there's so many of them, and Tony's in the thick of the battle.  
When they break through the throngs of attacking red robots, to where Sam is unconscious on the ground, and Carol's caught under a whole pile of the Chorus, Steve sees a sight which makes his heart stop beating for a second. | When he climbs out the plane and breaks through the throngs of attacking red robots, Natasha's protecting Carol from a whole pile of the Chorus, and two of the Angels of the Apocalypse are bearing down on Tony from high above.   
Tony. The Iron Man suit half ripped from his body. Being held suspended in mid-air. | Tony's Iron Man suit is scuffed, half-damaged. Steve's stomach drops.  
It's like the old bedtime poem his mom used to tell him, about angels protecting him at night, turned into something barbaric and horrendous and nightmarishly cruel. | Tony's in no state to still be out here, but he's still fighting. And there's no Avenger near him. If the Angels had gotten close enough to him, if Steve lets them get too close to him now--  
There's two of the Heavenly Chorus holding Tony's right ankle, and two holding his left wrist. There's an Angel with its hands around Tony's head, one holding his right hand like they're friends, and one holding his left foot in two white hands. | Oh, holy shit, this is a hell of a time to realize Sharon is so right, and the real reason to why he can't be friends with benefits with Tony Stark is such a laughable one he understands her smiles and Natasha's confusion easily.  
"Too late, Captain," the Angel of Death tells Steve. Tony's eyes are wide with fear. They find Steve's face across the distance. "For him. _You're_ just in time." |  How on earth had Steve somehow missed the very fundamental fact that he was in love with Tony. That he'd probably been in love with him all along.  
"For what?" Natasha yells, blood trickling down her face as she elbows another of the Heavenly Chorus in the face in a shower of sparks. | "Tony," Steve yells, and barrels forward with his shield. Steve absolutely loses it as the Angels inch closer to Tony.  
"For Stark's execution," the Angel of Death _sings_. |  How dare they. How _dare_ they.  
Steve knows one thing, very firmly, and it's a fact that rolls through his body with a shudder, and it's this: | Steve knows one thing, very firmly, and it's a fact that rolls through his body with a shudder, and it's this:  
He's too far away. | He's not losing Tony. Not now he knows.  
The robots turn their creepy smiles in unison in Steve's direction, and pull. | He raises up his shield and runs in to fight the Angels, screaming at the top of his breath.  
# | #  
"He won't stop screaming. Why won't he stop screaming?" | "Hey, winghead, it's over. You can stop screaming now."  
Is that Sam's voice? Steve doesn't know. Someone's screaming and screaming and screaming. It's making it hard to hear anything. Steve wants to laugh. He can't hear his thoughts over the screaming. | Steve blinks, ringing echoing in his ears. Is that Tony's voice? Steve's stomach lurches again, and it's good he ignored Natasha's invitation to great coffee and great cake served by bad caterers.  
It's really damn inconsiderate. | Ugh, maybe he got hit in the head a bit.  
"Considering what just happened, Sam, I think you'd have more of a fucking clue." That's Natasha. | "Jesus," someone mutters from somewhere near Steve's side. "Someone get the medics."  
What _has_ just happened? Steve's fingers are covered in blood. The screaming's annoying now. It tastes like fire down his open wide throat. |  Steve squints. The world's blurry around his head, but Tony's hand is on his shoulder, warm and a comfort. He's got to be okay because Tony's there.  
Tony's not dead. That's ridiculous. It's _ridiculous_. They've all come back from so much worse. Villains rearranging the world in their own image. Going right into hell and walking out again. Being passed like a shuttlecock through the streams of time itself. |  "You're okay," Steve breathes, Tony's face half in focus. "I thought I was going to lose you." Tony's face creases with worry, and he pushes on Steve's shoulder, pushes and pushes. He's pushing a lot. Steve frowns, heady with pain.  
Nah, Tony's not dead. And as soon as the screaming stops, Steve's going to be able to say it, and tell everyone. | Slamming his shield over and over into the robots' necks was the key. Wham, bam. The bad guys who made the robots hadn't counted on the vibranium.  
The world is fuzzy, but Steve doesn't pull it into focus, because then he'd just see it again— | Well, they hadn't counted on that much vibranium applied to that small section of the robot.  
The robots pulling apart Tony's body. | There's blood in Steve's vision.  
Laughing as they tear him to pieces. | "Did you get hurt?" Steve asks Tony.  
His torso thudding to the ground. | Tony pushes down on Steve's shoulder even more.  
Steve had been so far away. Too far away. If he hadn't been so distracted by the Angel of Pestilence, then perhaps the Angel of Death wouldn't have been able to throw Tony's head at him like a football. | Steve feels a little far away. He vaguely recalls Natasha stabbing him with something. A needle. Maybe that's why everything's so woozy. "Medics are almost here," Natasha says, in the distance.  
He can still feel the silk of Tony's hair, the wetness of his red blood as his severed head bled out over Steve's fingers. | "Did someone get hurt?" Steve asks. He feels like he's made of a thousand balloons, and it's Tony that's keeping him anchored.  
Iron Man red. | "Yes," Tony says, low and level.  
It's enough to make anyone scream in horror. Steve should probably get on that. | "Sorry," Steve says. "I tried to get here as quick as I could."  
He moves to open his mouth, but it’s already open, and he's already screaming. | "You did great," Tony says, but he sounds a bit wobbly, and Steve squints at him and--  
Oh. That's almost efficient. | Oh. Steve's arm is gone.  
Huh. | Huh.  
# | #  
It's funny how people speak to you at a funeral, Steve thinks. There's a lot of "I'm sorry" and "I'm so sorry for your loss", but it's not very accurate, because it's not Steve's loss. | It's funny how people act around you when you've lost a limb, Steve thinks. There's a lot of the nurses steadfastly staring at his face, for a start. When he voices this out loud, Natasha laughs.  
It's the world's loss. | "Welcome to my world, honey," she says, pointing at her chest.  
People say funerals are for saying goodbye, and for accepting fully that a person is dead, but they're wrong when they say it helps. Steve stares at the large stone slab and it's painfully precise markings. | Steve frowns. "What..?" And then he colors. "Sorry, Natasha," he says. And then his frown deepens. "And about the whole--" He gestures at himself with his remaining right arm.   
ANTHONY EDWARD STARK. Tony's full name, which he hated. Depicted in capslock, which he also hated. Carved in stone to last forever, which… he might have quite liked, actually. | Natasha's perfect face only crumples a little, at the corner of his mouth. This has to be hard for her on one level, seeing as her dead boyfriend also only had one arm and wore the stars and stripes for a spell.  
The past tense slides into Steve's thoughts like poison. It feels so wrong. | He misses Bucky more than he misses his left arm. It's only been a few hours, but he knows that for sure.  
People speak in fragments around him. They're sorry for his loss, but what did Steve even lose? | "Ah, the hero of the day is finally awake," Tony says brightly, wandering into the infirmary.  
Tony lost all his limbs. And his head. And so much blood. | "He's been here the whole time you were unconscious," Natasha says.  
Tony is the loser here. | Tony gapes at her.  
Tony would have _hated_ that. |  "Just in case he tries to pull the uncaring act."  
So sorry for his loss. | " _Would_ I?" Tony exclaims.  
Ha. Ha, ha, ha. Steve could laugh. Sam clamps a hand over Steve's mouth, and oh. Maybe he  _is_ laughing, and that's probably impolite but Tony would get a hell of a kick out of it. | Natasha just glares at him, and Steve almost wants to laugh at Tony's sheepish expression. "I'll leave you two kids alone," Natasha says. "Tony, no hanky panky in the bed."  
Maria comes over after nearly everyone has left. No, wait, Director Hill. There's no _Maria_ in the way she moves. _Maria_ is off-duty and occasionally shows emotions. _Maria_ might have shed a tear for how close she was with Tony herself, once upon a time. But this isn't Maria. This is Hill, the Director of SHIELD, wearing her black synthetic fabric uniform like it's armor. |  "Would I?" Tony exclaims, but both Steve and Natasha give him matching glares. "I don't know why I stick around either of you," he declares, but he settles in by Steve's side, and it's clear he's comfortable there. His hand settles on Steve's hip and the weight is soothing. His expression is fond, and Steve's chest warms. Maybe Tony knows the same thing Steve does.  
Steve is still locked on the gravestone like it's an anchor, and Director Hill steps in the way of Tony's name. That's really rude. He turns to her fully, and it's like moving through water. | "I know why I stick around you," Steve says, slowly. He's stating his intentions, if Tony's aware enough of that. The way Tony's cheeks color deeply infers maybe he knows exactly what Steve's really saying.  
"I'm sorry," she says, and Sam's hand is gone so Steve lets another of those horrible laughs out, because he can't help it, but it's early. She's not sorry for his loss. "We held back as long as we could, but they're attacking again, Steve. We need you. We don't have Iron Man any longer. Don't let them take Captain America too." | Tony lets Steve rest and gives him a running commentary on what's happened. The Angels are defeated, but there's still an incendiary device out there. Hank's located three military satellites with Tony's distinctive programming style, and Tony's making a remote control to activate them; with Tony on the field, the remote's half done.  
Steve tears his eyes away from where Tony's name is. | Tony babbles, and Steve drifts.  
She flinches back. | It's nice. He might not be physically whole...  
Maybe he looks a little scary. | ...but his heart feels more whole than it has in years.  
# | #  
Steve figures out how to kill the Angels three hours after Tony's funeral. | The Angel of Pestilence blows itself up. The bad guys must have realized the others were all gone.  
He's got blood on his hands, so much blood, and he has his shield firm in his grip, and if he slams and slams and _slams_ his shield into their neck, it's enough to decapitate them. |  The lab is dust and debris. The lack of evidence is depressing. Steve lies in his hospital bed, recovering and moping, especially because Tony leaves his bedside.  
Steve hunts all three of the white Angels down on the battlefield, while the Avengers take down the robots around them. He kneels over the Angel of Death, the one that took Tony's head, and smashes, and smashes. | It's a good thing, though. Because Tony runs in a couple of days later, cheeks burning, eyes wet with joy. "I figured it out," he yells, breathlessly, thumping down onto Steve's bed with hundreds of papers. "The explosion, we can track it by reverse. We can find where they're from."  
Dust to dust, Steve thinks, dispassionately. | "And turn them all to dust," Steve breathes.  
# | #  
"I'm sorry," Sam says. | "Sam keeps looking at me funny," Tony says.  
Steve throws him the dirtiest expression he can muster through his slightly-swollen eyelids. | Steve winces. "Yeah, I. Sorry about that. I guess it's my fault."  
"For my loss?" Steve asks, sourly. | "You _guess_?"  
"No, for punching you in the face," Sam says. Steve squints, and through the pain he can see Sam's still in uniform, his wings folded in tight. | Steve winces at Tony. He's been half-living in Steve's hospital room, doing his work on a spread of tablets and screens around the bed.  
He's still too close to the image of an angel for Steve's comfort. He turns his face away. If it wasn't for Sam, he'd probably still be out on that battlefield, smashing them to pieces, ripping himself apart in the process. | "I sort of approached him first for his opinion," Steve says. The wince doesn't go away. "About you and me trying to be..." He gestures, solely with his right hand. He's adjusting.  
He doesn't know if he cares. | "Friends who have copious sexy times," Tony grins.  
"It's fine," Steve says. "When can I get out of here?" | "Friends with _benefits_ ," Steve corrects.  
"Docs want a psych evaluation," Sharon's voice says. She sounds distant, but they've already broken up; they're not in that weird flux of a relationship where she's busy quietly pulling away, so her distance must be physical. | "Does it matter what the real term is?" Tony smiles at him, fond and dazed. "It's a pretty damn good idea is what it is. If I'd known what orgasms with you were going to be like, I'd have tried that hokey reasoning on you earlier."  
Steve snorts. "Crazy Captain America," he says, and closes his eyes again. That's nice. Oblivion. | "I _knew_ it was hokey," Steve says triumphantly, pushing up into more of a sitting position.  
Like the emotionless gaze of the Angels. | "Eh, you fell for it anyway."  
Steve's eyes snap open, and the light makes him wince in agony. | Steve squints. "Yeah. Guess we were never going to manage dating if we handled it face on."   
"I've got it," Sharon says, and it must be to Sam – Steve can feel the graze of Sam's wings cutting through the infirmary's dry, bleach-sick air. "How you feeling, kiddo?" | "Dating?" Tony watches Steve with an unreadable expression. "I took you manfully against a variety of surfaces. I don't remember dinner and emoting in that."  
"Like Sam punched me in the face," Steve says. | Steve stares at him flatly.  
"Please. I've seen you be hit in the head with a tank and still keep running." The bed dips. Sharon doesn't hold to strict guidelines, especially when it comes to hospitals. "Nearly everyone's been by to see you. They brought you some pretty hot stuff." | "Yeah," Tony mutters, ducking his head self-consciously. "Yeah, okay. It was a bullshit explanation and we were dating the whole time." He raises his head with a tentative expression. "Just to be clear, I want to keep doing it."  
Steve turns his head. There's a handful of cards on the bedside table, saying _Get Well Soon!_ , and half a bunch of grapes. | Steve's gut tightens, and he swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. "I'd like to too," he admits. "I... Don't like who I am when you're not there."  
"Then Logan came by and ran off with most of the good stuff," Sharon says, ruefully. "I think Jessica also finished off your chocolates." | Tony's mouth does a funny flip, and he leans forwards and kisses Steve, a brief and warm gesture without much pressure behind it.  
Steve makes a noncommittal sound. | Steve makes a pleased sort of sound.  
"I'm not going to take much of this _feeling sorry for yourself_ bullshit, Steve." Sharon adjusts her weight on the bed, making the springs squeak. "The remaining Angel says there's a device." |  "You keep up making those sort of sounds," Tony says, resting his forehead against Steve's, "I'll be busting you out of this hospital quicker than you can say _Tony no_."   
"Of course there is," Steve says, and closes his eyes again. | "I'm pretty practised at saying that," Steve says, closing his eyes and enjoying the contact.  
ANTHONY EDWARD STARK plays behind his eyes. He wonders if there are flowers on Tony's grave. | "Anthony Edward Stark," barks the voice at the door, and Tony pulls back guiltily.  
There should be flowers. | "Are you bothering my patient?" the nurse demands.  
And a bottle of whiskey. | Tony winces.  
And probably some skimpy underwear. | "I kinda made him," Steve says. "Sorry."  
"Steve—" Sharon says, and there's a hundred pleas in the single syllable of his name. She sighs, and there's a hundred disappointments. "When you died," she says, "I just felt guilty. That I deprived the world of Captain America." | The nurse makes a low tutting sound under her breath. "Don't make me call Director Hill and put either of you under arrest," she declares. "Now go, Mr. Stark. You've been underfoot long enough. Get to your lab and let your boyfriend heal."  
"Am I supposed to feel guilty that I've deprived the world of Iron Man?" Steve asks, not opening his eyes. | " _Boyfriend_ ," Tony says, spluttering. The nurse gives him an unimpressed glare.  
"Not even dignifying that with a response." | Steve has to fight not to laugh at his outrage.  
"Muh," Steve says, because eloquence is not a required skill for an Avenger in the infirmary. "Get to the point," he adds after a moment, because eloquence is a required skill for Sharon Carter not to perform a bilateral orchiectomy on him. With a rusty spoon. | "Mr. Stark," the nurse repeats. "I don't care if you're rich enough to buy the whole country out from beneath my feet, but don't make me add idiot to my label of irresponsible. Get out of my hospital and stop stressing out Captain Rogers. You can see him when he's discharged."  
"My point is… what are _you_ feeling?" |  "It better be soon," Tony bitches, gathering up his tablets.  
Steve does open his eyes then, but only to give her a dirty stare. | He gives Steve a dirty stare for not helping him. Steve tries not to grin too much.  
She stares back at him, wide-eyed and assuming an innocent expression that they both know is an act. | "I'll see you back at the Tower," Tony says, and darts in for a last quick kiss, glaring at the nurse.  
"Nothing," Steve says. | "Tomorrow," the nurse promises. "If he behaves."  
They both know that's a lie. | "Behave," Tony instructs Steve, and leaves.  
# | #  
The other Avengers are all focused on finding the incendiary device. | There aren't too many Avengers around to welcome Steve back to the Tower, but he doesn't mind.  
Steve has something else to do, and Tony's lab is the best place to do it. It's set up for someone to hole themselves up there for weeks, and that's what Steve does, because even though he's not a scientist, he can still do research. | Everyone's fixated on finding the incendiary device. Steve puts his meds away in the kitchen, and then pads through the Tower to the lab. He's still officially off-duty, but he can help on some of the mental legwork.  
The metal tiled floor is cool against Steve's feet. He understands now why Tony did his best work barefoot. | Tony's already working when he enters the lab, barefoot as usual as he pads between a set of blueprints and his screens.  
He only came in here to… maybe try and accept the fact that Tony's gone. What he finds instead of serenity is a large blueprint. | "Aw, yeah, eye candy," Tony says, kissing Steve on the cheek as Steve draws up alongside him to look at the blueprints.  
It's for a remote control to activate satellite lasers. Steve should be angry. He gave one order to Tony during this whole thing, and it was to _not_ to research anything Tony might have done during the years he didn't remember. |  It's all complicated, but if Steve squints, the electronic diagram sort of looks like a battle plan. With time, with a _lot_ of time, Steve thinks he might be able to learn that language. Electricity does seem like a battlefield. Steve might take to it. Eventually.  
It was a stupid order. Tony was clever to ignore it. | He's not stupid. Except for when he's denying things.  
Tony was clever, and Steve isn't, he isn't anywhere close— | Like how stupidly in love with Tony he's been, for the longest time.  
Tears aren't helping anyone. | Well, he knows now.  
Without Tony, Steve needs someone else's brain, but all he has is his own. All the other Avengers are focussed on the incendiary device threat, and the knowledge that the Heavenly Chorus might still be out there, so Steve's mostly left alone to work. | The only matter now is making sure that Tony knows, but that's not for right now; Steve's on heavy pain medication still, and physical therapy, and Tony won't believe a declaration made sober easily, let alone one made while Steve's this drugged. It can wait.  
# | #  
YouTube is an excellent resource. Steve's been saying it for days under his breath, using YouTube to teach himself to understand Tony's blueprints. One screen is setup to run YouTube how-to videos, while one is set up to look for methods on how to bring people back from the dead, because Steve's ridiculous, but it wouldn't be the first time. | Tony actually puts Steve to watching YouTube videos, which Steve starts out thinking is just a way of getting him out from under Tony's feet as he finishes his remote and works on locating the incendiary device, but then he realizes the videos are super helpful. Then again, there's still only so many he can watch before he has to take a break from them.  
He asked Wanda once to bring him back. According to Sam, they haven't heard from her since. He sounded a little mad when he said it. He's probably mad at Wanda for leaving when they need her. | Steve risks the cafeteria, even though the Carlsberg guy Tony hired for the canteen is kinda an asshole, and brings back coffee to the lab, balancing the cups on one tray. It's difficult, but he manages.  
Or maybe he's mad at Steve for chasing her away when she'd started to show signs of settling down again. | Tony inhales half the coffee before he even realizes Steve's still holding the tray out. He grins at Steve sheepishly.  
That might be more likely. | "Sorry," Tony apologizes.  
Sam's the only one who comes to find Steve, every now and again. He comes in without knocking and tells Steve he smells bad. | "Nothing to apologize for," Steve tells him. "You're pushing yourself. I might as well be good for something."  
Steve tells Sam where the door is. | Tony looks at him sharply.  
"You're not going to tell me to stop?" he asks Sam, the last time he comes. | "You're good for everything," Tony says, and then colors. Stares at his machinery, not at Steve. "When this-- I mean, we should talk." He sounds doubtful.  
Sam stares at him like Steve might not even be there. "Would you listen?" | Steve looks at him. "Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here to listen."  
# | #  
Steve nearly burns his arm while he's soldering a three-pin resonator, and it's not on the soldering iron. | Tony finds the incendiary device in the early hours of the morning.  
It's on a scalding cup of coffee. Steve squints at it. There's a sesame-seed bagel lying next to it, and his stomach crunches painfully. | Steve startles awake from where he'd slumped in the chair, and nearly falls when he tries to use his missing arm to push himself up.  
His head moves of its own accord, and Tony's name is halfway out of his mouth before he realizes Natasha's sitting in the chair, watching him. Her legs are crossed elegantly, and she's blowing on her own cup of coffee. | He manages to wake up fully and get to his feet in time to see Tony zoom in with the satellites and focus on the base. The satellites must be extraordinarily powerful; the base is shielded with a shimmering energy barrier.  
"Have you heard of the concept of knocking?" Steve asks. "It alerts occupants of a room that someone's wanting to come in. It makes it easier on both parties when one of them isn't welcome." | "Got it," Tony says, hissing. "It's far out enough in international waters that a nicely timed nuclear blast would cause a world war. Hopefully a nuclear-sized blast will suffice to wipe them out."  
Natasha stares back. "Have you heard of the concept of one's CO living in denial for six weeks, probably not regularly showering from the aroma he's lugging around with him, and his colleagues finally realizing his grieving has hit officially unhealthy levels?" | Steve looks at his side profile, even as he puts the call out to Director Hill to come to the Tower, stat. He itches to pull the Avengers in on patrol, to go for the attack, but that might warn the Angels' creator that they've found them.  
"I'm not grieving," Steve says. "I'm working." He gestures at the work. | "Of course it would," Steve says. "But I'm doubting you have a nuclear strike in mind."  
Natasha points at the screen running through different internet searches, looking for ways to resurrect the dead. "Looks like it." | "You know me so well," Tony breathes, and brings up a display. "Turns out the satellites have massive lasers. And I figured out the password."  
Steve's fingers close so hard around the resonator it bends in half. "I'm keeping my options open." | "Yeah?" Steve asks, looking at the base of the Angels' creators, assessing how hard it would be to attack.  
"You think I don't understand? When Bucky died—" | "Your birthday," Tony says, a little unevenly.  
"That's different. That was Bucky." | Steve stares at him, mouth suddenly dry.  
"And this is Tony," Natasha says. Steve's automatic flinch pulls a wire out of its connection, and Steve stares at it sadly, like it's betrayed him. | Tony's handsflicker forward, and settle on Steve's hips. He steps in to Steve's space. "I think I've always been unhealthily obsessed with you."  
"It's not the same," Steve says, and tries to push the wire back into place. His hand is shaking, and it takes Natasha's fingers on top of his to steady them. | Steve swallows, his eyes tracking Tony's face. Tony's pupils look blown, and he's shaking a little. He scared right now.  
"It's the same, Steve," Natasha says. "I'm sorry." | He wasn't scared when hunting down the Angels.  
"It's not," Steve insists, "because that would mean—That would mean—" | It says something about their lives when it's _feelings_ that are more terrifying than the supervillains.  
He looks down at his trembling fingers, and the crusted oil embedded in his nails, and the half-finished remote that Tony would have completed in a single evening, and Steve's only _half done_ using way too much time. |  Steve moves his hand to Tony's cheek, and Tony presses into the space. They only have a minute before someone gets there, just sixty seconds, but they both make no move to pull apart. For a minute, they just exist.  
Natasha rubs a thumb over his wrist, commiserating. "Take some time and think about it." | Tony looks at him, with hope and _love_ in his eyes, and Steve's heart thumps.  
Maybe everything comes down to time in the end. | "When this is done, I'll be ready to talk," Tony says.  
# | #  
"Hi, Tony." | "Hi, Steve."  
Steve kneels down on the grass. Tony doesn't respond. | True to his word, Tony does want to talk. Back in his lab.  
Then again, he is dead. | The ones that made the Angels are dead.  
It's taking a long time for that to sink in. | They were going to blow up New York City.  
"Everyone keeps saying they're sorry," Steve tells the stone with Tony's name on it. It's not even Tony's name. He's _Tony_. It's Anthony Edward Stark that's dead. Tony's still in a lab, working barefoot, and chugging too-hot black coffee by the gallon-load. "They're sorry for me. You're the dead one." |  SHIELD and the other Avengers discovered they had enough nuclear material on its way to New York City to raze Manhattan to the ground. Using Tony's military lasers, they managed to safely remove the people transporting it, and they moved it to safety. The ten million people it would have incinerated are safe.  
Tony would laugh at that. Steve's pretty sure. | Tony's still shaky over it. Steve doesn't blame him.  
"I'm really angry at you," Steve tells Tony. "I think it's one of the five stages of grief. Which I'm going through. Because of _you_. Considering the fact that you're the King of Not Talking About Feelings, it's ironic and rude." |  "Y'know," Tony says, "I used to be so angry with you. Back when the whole Superhero Registration Act thing was going down. I was angry, and I thought it was a righteous anger, and that excused anything and everything."  
Tony's gravestone stays resolutely quiet in agreement. | Steve sits down. This talk is so beyond overdue it's bordering on ridiculous. They owe it to each other to sit quietly and listen.  
"I don't want to get to the acceptance stage of grief," Steve says, pushing his fingers against the cold stone of the grave. "And I don't want to talk about my feelings. _Everyone_ wants to. They've assigned me a therapist and Sam _shot_ me because I missed the first session." |  "You don't have to do this," Steve says, evenly, although it's kind of a lie. They both do. "We both messed up equally. Fifty/fifty." He thinks about how when they fought each other, they nearly broke Manhattan with just their fists and rage, and he shudders.  
He takes his fingers from the gravestone to poke at the healing wound. | Maybe the people wanting all superheroes dead to save the world aren't so crazy after all.  
Steve sighs. "I'm still mostly angry with you about the SHRA, if you'd believe it. Of course you believe it. Bruce is the Hulk, I'm the sulk." | "The anger wasn't right," Tony says. "But there was something worse than that. Something just like the satellites that I didn't want to see."  
Tony would have laughed at that. The silence feels damning. | Steve stays quiet. The silence feels heavy, but hopeful.  
"I know we forgave each other, but we both knew time was what we needed to move on. And you didn't give me enough _time_." Steve sinks down into the grass, and leans his forehead against the cool stone of Tony's resting place. "Sharon's right and I'm disproportionately mad about it, even now." |  "With enough time, I know the open wound of that horrible year will heal. And I think we can give it that time. We deserve to," Tony says. His eyes glitter in the near dark of the lab. Neither of them move to turn on the lights. "It wasn't time I needed back then. I needed to open my damn eyes."  
There's a little bit of wind in the background of the graveyard, but that's the only sound. | The lab is mostly silent, but there's still the faint hum of machines, if Steve concentrates.  
"Apparently it's because I was—" Steve swallows. "Apparently I'm in love with you, asshole." He closes his eyes, but the sky's still bright, so everything's a dull red and everything's _cold_. "And you died, which makes you the _biggest_ ass. And you'd agree with me on that. Tony Stark, the most debonair jerk on the planet." |  "I didn't notice that I was angry because I missed you," Tony says. "I'd just-- I assumed you would be my side, forever. No matter what. And when you weren't... My anger wasn't righteous at all. My anger just made me an asshole, because it was just hiding up what I couldn't accept."  
His hands curl into fists. | His hands curl into fists.  
"You'd laugh at me, actually," Steve tells the headstone. "I've probably been in love with you for years. How stupid does someone need to be not to notice that? You always laugh—laughed at idiots." | "I started to make you something," Tony says, jerking his fist over at one of the tables. "It's a bionic arm. Because I'm an asshole. The fate of Manhattan and I still took a break because of you."  
The stone isn't warming up under the skin of his forehead. | "Tony," Steve starts, awkwardly. He gets to his feet, but Tony stays still.  
"The past tense is a jerk too," Steve says. "A big, stupid jerk. Like me. Steve and the past tense. Natural enemies." | "I love you," Tony says, into the dark space between them. "And it's time I face up to that and accept it, and don't... keep masking it."  
Tony doesn't respond. Of course. He's bones and flayed flesh, lodged in the mud far beneath Steve's body. | He takes a shuddering breath, and Steve leans into him, resting his forehead against Tony's until their breaths match.  
"I didn't know I loved you," Steve says. "Because I didn't want to know." | "I didn't know I loved you either," Steve says. "I didn't want to know."  
He curls around the stone, drawing his knees up against its cold surface. | "It was easier to think I was only angry at you for being wrong," Tony says. "You weren't wrong."  
"This sounds too much like acceptance to me, too," Steve says, his nose brushing the stone. "But I won't ever get over losing you." | "I wasn't right either," Steve says, his hand slipping up to cup Tony's neck and keep him close. "That's what we missed, too. It was all wrong and it was all right."  
The stone stays silent. | Tony kisses him, their mouths making little noise.  
"Losing you is just too difficult a concept," Steve says. "I need you. And maybe that's why I could never decipher the love. Because our love and need and want got all messed up in a tangled heap." | "It's going to be better now," Steve says, reluctantly pulling away a little from the addictive lure of Tony's mouth on his. "We'll probably create new problems, knowing us, but... we know what to look for, now."  
Like him and Tony's gravestone. | "We know what's beneath the surface," Tony says.  
Steve laughs under his breath, oddly charmed at the creepy image. | He makes it dirty by lifting up Steve's shirt. Steve just smiles indulgently. He's happy. That's better than being whole.  
# | #  
"Have you any idea," Maria – no, Director Hill – yells. "Any idea how much money we had to fork out to get The Chronicle not to print the shot of you cuddling a gravestone?" | "Have you any idea," Clint yells. "Any idea how traumatizing it was to walk into Tony's lab and find him post-coitus cuddling with Steve? Steve. He doesn't even know what sex is."  
Steve stares at the spot on her forehead where there's a twitching nerve. "Had a breakdown, ma'am. Won't happen again." | "Really?" Sharon drawls from the corner, poking at her cake. "This cake was awesome, but man, the guy in the canteen is an ass."  
"Tony fucking Stark," Maria mutters, rubbing her forehead and sinking into the seat. "I'd always hoped you were clever enough not to fall into that particular trap." | "I'm an asshole who only hires assholes," Tony calls from the doorway. "And by-the-by, Hawkface, sex was invented before World War II or your cute tush would be non-existent."  
Steve stares at a spot on the wall above her head, because she's hiding her forehead still in her hands. "Am I free to rejoin the search for the Angels' incendiary device, Director?" | Clint makes several garbled sounds, and shoots a dirty look at Tony. His disdainful expressions do not have the accuracy of his arrows; it sails right over Tony's head.  
"Yeah, yeah, you're free to do whatever," Hill says, waving her hand vaguely. "But if I don't get news that you're attending your therapy sessions, I'll shoot you myself." | "You know Steve is lurking outside too embarrassed to even come in?" Sam says, wincing as Sharon slaps his fingers as he tries to take some of her hard won cake.  
"Understood," Steve says, and for a moment, they stand and stare at each other oddly. There are lines around Hill's eyes that weren't there before. Tony's death has hit them all hard. "I—" | Steve is actually hiding outside. He's terribly embarrassed. It's one thing to be sneaking around as Tony Stark's booty call, but they were... They were making love in the lab. Not fucking around.  
He's not sure what he's about to say, probably some terrible recycled platitude, but he doesn't get to say it. | Well, they probably should have locked the door. Steve's going to blush forever.  
(He won't say anything for a while, but that's just shock.) | "C'mon, Cap," Natasha says. "We've all seen Clint's junk more times than anyone wanted to."  
"Ma'am," the SHIELD agent from the doorway says, and Hill opens her mouth to reprimand for the Ma'am, she prefers Director—and her mouth snaps shut. | "What are you even talking about?" Clint demands. "You've seen Hawkeye Junior more than anyone in here."  
"It's New York," the agent says, awkwardly, twisting one foot underneath herself uneasily. Fidgeting. | "I kept my eyes closed the whole time," Natasha says, eyeballing him like she's daring him to protest.  
SHIELD agents do not fidget. Not normally. | "Hawkeye Junior," Tony repeats, flatly.  
"Agent," Hill snaps, her fists clenching. "What about New York?" | "I do feel less embarrassed in his company now," Steve says, coming in.  
The agent's small frame starts to tremble violently. | "I'm glad someone does," Sam says, looking faintly queasy.  
# | #  
Steve kneels down in the residue of New York. The rubble and the bone fragments and the bricks and the blood and the ash that fills the air like smoke. | Steve picks up the new arm Tony made him, and puts it back down. It'll work with some tinkering, some small adjustments.  
Steve's kneeling on broken glass. | He doesn't know if he wants it to.  
It doesn't feel real. | He's fine with just one arm.  
"Oh my god," Sam breathes, sinking down next to him, and Steve doesn't even have the energy to reprimand or agree with him. | Bucky would probably yell at him for being so indecisive, especially about something which will help him fight again.  
New York is a smoking crater. Like someone's broken apart the jigsaw of it, taken off half the pieces, and replaced the rest with smoking ash. | Steve's tired. He's not sure whether he's ready to fight yet. He knows he will, it's only a matter of time, but perhaps the world won't fold if he takes a break.  
Tony's grave is outside the city, so at least that's safe, but— | He wanders over to the window, looking down at New York City.  
This is so surreal. | They came so close to losing it all.  
Steve feels like he's standing somewhere else. On another planet. Looking at someone else's destruction. | He wonders how it would have felt, to stand and look at that much destruction, that much devastation, but he can't quite imagine it.  
# | #  
"Give me it as best as you can," Hill says. She's been wavering between _Hill_ and _Maria_ for the past few hours. The whole world is in shock, grieving New York. No one knows how to even comprehend missing something that big. |  Tony never stops working, even though there's no imminent threat, but that's just part of his personality. Steve manages to go back on light duty, but when he comes home to the Tower, all he wants is to celebrate with Tony.  
Except Steve. He's feeling oddly calm. Like this is just an _echo_ of losing Tony. |  It's his first day back to work, back to normal. He wants to celebrate feeling alive.  
"Estimated death toll of eight million," Steve says, because the most appalling facts should go first. "The Avengers Tower and Mansion are both gone. Completely obliterated, no sign of survivors. Seventy percent of the teams were out on patrol, but two were caught in the radius of the blast. Even considering the Avengers with powers which would have enabled them to survive a blast of that magnitude..." He swallows, his sight blurring for a moment. "We're down more members than I even want to think about right now." | Tony's padding barefoot over his lab as usual, blasting music out loud, muttering along to himself. Steve moves right in to him and sweeps him off his feet with his right arm. He still isn't using the bionic arm, but he doesn't have to; Captain America's deadly no matter his number of limbs. Perhaps Tony's been thinking of celebrating too, because he has a bottle of champagne in one hand. "Change and meet me on the roof," Tony says, kissing him briefly before disappearing up the stairs. Steve takes a minute to admire the view.  
Hill's mouth wobbles. She doesn't want to think about it either. It's unthinkable. They're all detached from the statistics for now. "Did Wanda count among that number of potential survivors?" Hill tries. | "I like to come up here to think," Tony says, when Steve gracefully drops down to sit next to him. His balance is nearly back to perfect again. "It's nice and quiet. I've invented a lot of things up here."  
Natasha shakes her head tersely. | "Such as?" Steve prompts.  
"I don't even understand," Sam moans, because  _Wanda_. She probably could rearrange matter and the universe to her every whim, even now. |  "Shields. Planes. Weapons." His voice only hitches a little on that one. "Weird pizza toppings. An ice ray. A time machine."  
Steve guesses the Vision's gone too. That's the only thing that makes sense. People naively say losing a loved one is like losing a limb, but losing a limb is  _survivable_. |  "A time machine," Steve repeats, and his smile is wider than the joke deserves. It's just relief. Sure he lost a limb, but he could have lost Tony to the Angels, and that would have been worse.  
This? Steve's not so sure about. | He doesn't even know if would have survived that.  
"Damn," Hill murmurs. | And if he did, it wouldn't have been a kind survival.  
"Confirmed dead include Vision," Natasha says, a subdued soundtrack to the whining in Steve's ears. "The Sentinel, Captain Marvel, Cage." Her voice cracks, but she keeps going. | "I've always wanted to go back to the past," Tony says. He leers at Steve appreciatively. "See some of those hot Greek warriors with super abs who had sexy times in their tents."  
"I really didn't think I'd hear those names in the lists of the dead," _Maria_ says shakily, sitting down hard in her chair, hand covering her face for the five seconds she'll give herself to freak out. |  "I can't even believe I fell for that explanation," Steve says. He hums under his breath. He probably should be looking out at the city, but he prefers this view; Tony sat next to him, a calm look on his face.  
"As far as we can tell," Sam says, groggily, "and that's based from the much smaller explosion from the Angel of Pestilence, the Angels' power source was one we hadn't seen, but it had more than a few freakish similarities with nuclear power." | "I still can't either," Tony says. "I guess it was just one extra level of denial. We were good at that." He grazes his fingertips along the curve of Steve's thigh, tantalizingly. "Just as well that we're good at all the other stuff, huh?"  
Hill uncovers her face, and straightens, her body and spine stiffening into an immovable line. If she trembles a little, no one's going to call her on it. "Fallout?" | "You're a tease," Steve says, chasing Tony's hand with his own, but Tony's hand dips away, dancing up the seam of his pants before pulling back to pour them out some champagne.  
Natasha's stony faced. "Unknown." | Steve sits back and enjoys the breeze for a moment.  
"Christ," Hill swears, and Steve can't blame her. | The light of the sunset glints on the champagne.  
The whole world could die from that explosion. | This is a perfect moment, and they're both alive for it.  
"On the plus side," Sam says, "we've been able to trace a signal from the explosion to an island on these co-ordinates." He pulls up a map on one of SHIELD's biggest screens. "Early scans indicate there's a substantial army of the Heavenly Chorus there. It must be the base where the Angels were created. There's a barrier shielding them." | "Here's to us," Tony says, steadily, holding a glass out to Steve before holding up one of his own. They clink their glasses together and smile somewhat dorkily, but there's no one around to see them. Even though there's eight million living and breathing down below their feet that might not otherwise have the chance to do so.  
Hill slams a button on her counter. "Give me an airsquad," she barks. "The co-ordinates that you're being sent now. Wipe it off the planet." | "To us," Steve says, his eyes locking with Tony's. This thing between them might still take an awful lot of negotiation, but it's worth it.  
She stalks off. Sam, Natasha and Steve watch her go, numb and hating. By some mutual sense of tired loathing, the three wander back to the rise overlooking New York's destruction. | They both look out companionably over the horizon, at the buildings and lights, at the rays of sun leaching over it all, tingeing it all in shades of apricot and peach.  
"Clinton Barton's been confirmed among the dead," Sam says, softly. | "If I start something," Tony says, looking deliberately at Steve's mouth, "will Clint walk in?"  
" _What_?" Natasha flinches, as if being physical struck, but that's wrong; no physical blow could make her flinch like that. |  "He's off doing some weird training thing with Kate," Steve says, cautiously. "Something insane about heights I didn't want to pay attention to."  
"He was with his young protégé near the Empire State building at the time," Sam says, his voice brusque and low. | " _We're_ up a height," Tony says, kissing along Steve's shoulder, and then pulling back reluctantly. "Alas, we'll have to take it inside."  
Steve can't talk about the dead like this, not casual and reasonably, but he doesn't have the energy left to scream and bawl. He looks over the devastation. | "Also, it's kind of like New York is watching us," Steve says, gesturing with his champagne glass. The fact that it's there to stare is a celebration in itself.  
"I don't even know if I have the energy to help rebuild the world after this," Steve says, staring and staring. "Tony would have—" | "Eh, it's probably for the best we can't," Tony says. "I tend to come up here because it's a good thinking spot. I've solved a lot of problems up here."  
He can't finish the sentence. Natasha's hand slips onto his shoulder, and Sam crowds in close. The three of them look over the horizon. | Steve smiles, and shuffles a little, crowding in close to Tony. The physical proximity is reassuring, especially when Tony exhales hard over the view.  
"We'll manage," Sam says, but even his voice is strained. | "Everything worked out," Steve says. "So what's with the sad?"  
They'll manage, but it won't feel right. | Tony side-eyes him.  
It won't _be_ right, ever again. |  Steve stares, flatly.  
"I just—" Steve sighs. "I can't help but think if there was a way to go back and change everything – what moment would I even go back to?" | "I just—" Tony sighs. "I can't help but think if I could even make a functioning time machine – what moment would I even go back to?"  
"You can't think like that," Natasha says. "Believe me. There's nothing you could have done." | "I don't think there's much about this that I want changed," Steve says.   
Steve smiles wanly at her. | Tony smiles widely at him, and tugs him closer.  
He doesn't believe her. | He believes him.  
He doesn't think any of them do. | He always will.  
There has to have been something they could have done to change events, to make them _better_ , but Steve can't think what it could be. | And maybe there was something they could done to save his arm, but maybe whatever it was would have made everything _worse_.  
Maybe there's some comfort in that. | There's a lot of comfort in that.  
  
  



End file.
